


The raven

by Kat182



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Animals, Biting, Blood, Bloodplay, Character Death, Everything Hurts, Knifeplay, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Mindfuck, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Teeth, Violence, knife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:37:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat182/pseuds/Kat182
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wants to be free, like the raven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The raven

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what it is, but I know you will feel so sorry for Theon at the end of the story. I hope you enjoy it.

The night was cold, black, full of terrors and monsters. It was all deeply dark and silent around him, except the distant crowing of a raven. Theon looked down at the quartered corpse of a rat he has killed before for eating: it was destroyed, covered with its blood and, most of all, broken.  
“ _Like me_ ” he thought, “it is like I am”.  
Theon diverted his trembling gaze from the cadaver of the dead rat – as was himself – and looked up, meeting the very dark eyes of the crow. The rapacious had settled on the stone sill, over the iron bars affixed to the window of the prison: the crow was immobile like a proud and honored statue, but the eyes revealed the instinct of a cruel, lethal predator that made Theon shivered.  
“ _I know those eyes_ ” he reflected, “ _they are bad and they hurt me_ ”.  
He approached cautiously, continuing to look at the animal which was really the only living creature inside that room. A room that smelled of vomit, piss, feces, blood, death, a palpable desperation and above all the exclusive desire of being free or defunct.  
« _You are free_ » he said amazed, realizing the animal was free and him not. « _I will never be free, but you are. You can be free for me, for both of us, if you want to_ ».

When the sound of his heavy footsteps came closer and closer, expanded and vibrating between the walls of the corridor, Theon began to tremble convulsively. Theon stared at the raven for the last time, eyes in eyes, as he really believed that he could be saved from the pain and his prison of stone, steel and nightmares. But it would never appended, because he would have never not allowed it.  
He heard the sharp sound of key inserted into the lock and, when the door opened with a screech that looked like crushed bones, Theon wished to be dead. But of course he wasn't, and the raven had flown away flapping its dark wings and disappeared into the night which was dyed of black, as it also the soul of his torturer.  
« _At least one of us is free_ » he told himself.  
The door closed with a dull thud. Theon shuddered of an intense terror when he turned to his master, staying silent and keeping his gaze down. A stable and durable quiet was between them, separating the victim from the torturer.  
«I want to play a game with you» Ramsay finally said breaking the silence, «if you win, I grant you can ask me whatever you want. But if you lose, my sweet Reek, then you know what awaits you» he added with a grin of pure malice.  
«Do you want to know what are the rules of this game?» he asked and Theon nodded, «they are very simple: if you scream, you lose. But if you can't deliver even a single scream, the victory will be surely yours. Only yours» he grinned with a devil smile.  
Ramsay began to approach, he did it slowly, while his devilish grin became more horrible, his pupils became dilated and his eyes the eyes of a predator. When he halted beside the windows of the cell, the pale moonlight lit up his face - the face Theon could never forget – and Ramsay put his gaze on the trembling and unstable figure of Reek.  
«Come here, I want to see you» he ordered and Theon obeyed, emerging from the darkness that have surrounded and protected him – from something more obscure: him – like a ghost, half alive and half dead.  
Ramsay's lips curved into his typical smile that had nothing human. “ _He is no human_ ” Theon thought and shook uncontrollably. 

The flaying knife, Theon recognized. Theon's breath cough in his throat, as if it was completely broken and then vanished. The fear was killing him, the wait was the worse part of Ramsay's games.  
« _Breath_ » he ordered brandishing his terrible knife, «I said you have to breath».  
Theon gave no sign of life. Ramsay, he was angry and with eyes now ablaze with fury , the threw on him and circled his neck with his hands, beginning to squeeze harder and harder. Theon still did not give any sign of life. He was alive, but he was died. It was so much more death than live, Ramsay knew and also Theon knew.  
Gradually, the iron grip around Theon's neck became slower, until it totally disappeared and leave the throat free which bore the remarks of an attempt strangulation. Theon took a deep breath and felt alive, in some way, although he was also dead.  
Ramsay still staring at him with a blind and wild rage, now a rage even more big than ever.  
«I beg your pardon, my lord» Theon murmured in a feeble voice, «forgive me, please».  
Ramsay kissed him. He did with an impetuous fury, forcing the entry of his mouth and immersing his tongue inside, while he just let slip the knife down his body.  
Theon was blocked against the cold wall, with the pressure of his torturer on himself. Ramsay was kissing him roughly and the knife was slipping down, and more down ever more, and then it was sliding up in the direct of his throat. 

The teeth were pushing deeper and deeper, as if Ramsay was devouring him alive. Theon could feel those terrible teeth stuck into his body, while Ramsay was scrolling slowly the sharp knife on his throat and he was repeatedly shaken by uncontrollable tremors. They bit his neck stronger, sinking with violence and, finally, Ramsay felt the taste of blood in his mouth and the tongue was kneaded. It was sweet and bitter at the same time: of iron, rust, copper, life, death and especially him. It was the blood of Theon - _his Reek_ \- and it should not be wasted, so Ramsay sucked keenly and drank every drop until it was over. When he had licked the last scarlet drop, Ramsay still desired it because it was not enough. The blood could never be enough, not for him.  
Ramsay grabbed his wrists, surrounding them with fingers in a tight, solid grip of steel. He forced him to lie on the cold stone floor and, remaining in his eyes, he realized that he wanted more blood. Ramsay’s mouth was on fire, red lips – _red of blood_ – now pressed with harshness against those pale, thin and cracked lips. Theon trembled, because an intense thrill shook him from within himself, when Ramsay sank his lower lip into the teeth and made it bleed profusely, then licking and sucking so greedy every red drop that was sliding down his chin.  
Theon let out a groan. « _My lord_ » he moaned raucously.  
The teeth, like sabres now, they continued to sink while the blade of the knife slipped on his skin making him shiver violently, but he was locked into Ramsay’s arms that were standing above him completely, circling his fragile and unstable figure.  
The cruel and greedy Ramsay’s mouth was still resting on his lips, and the tongue licked away the blood that flowed: _he did as he would suck him, as if he would eat him, as if he would destroy him and as if he didn’t want anything else but him_.  
Ramsay kept him locked in a possessive grip, he could not move. Theon's face was pressed against the frosty stone, his body immobilized in the iron vice of Ramsay: those teeth were beginning to slide down his back, covered with scars past and recent. The teeth sank again, again and again, going deeper and deeper to tear screams, pain, blood.  
And then it was just blood, whole blood, only blood, just as if nothing else existed within that cell, and everything had been done for the blood. Because the blood was vivid, warm and dense, now kneading the inside of the mouth, tinged lips and slid along Theon's body.  
Theon was his totally and completely, covered with his own blood, painted of red and white at the same time, and the scarlet drops continued to flown down the back like rivers made of blood.  
Unstoppable, impetuous, terrible, just like Ramsay's teeth they were into him, stuck in the flesh eating him alive.

It hurt with those teeth sunk into his flesh, and the pain that Theon had to endure when they tore his skin made him feel alive, as if he really was. _But it was a lie, a beautiful lie_. In its way, Ramsay still made him feel alive, as if he wasn't not only a shadow of himself, a ghost that was disappearing, a creature that lived and hid in the dark to escape from his terrible fears. He did so to escape from the terrors that haunted him, and that he would be persecuted forever, it didn’t matter where he was or if he managed to escape because his fears, his nightmares and his terrors would _always_ be there with him, with him as a companion in life and in death.  
He would never be truly free. He knew that. He knew it perfectly. And that was what scared him more, what made him tremble with more force, what made him yearn for death: the fact that, wherever he went, his terrors would persecuted.  
 _He would never have won against his monsters. Never_.

When the knife was pressing against his throat for the umpteenth time, Theon pressed himself against the blade, slipping on it, leaving his throat cut from steel. And then there was just blood, so much blood, too much blood. It was red, lively, warm, dense and beautiful, but this time Ramsay was destroyed - his Reek, he was dying - totally and completely.  
Theon, however, perhaps he would be free, as the raven.  
It was been the last game: Theon had won, Ramsay had lost, but for both it would be forever as the death.


End file.
